When I Woke Up
A funny thing happened this evening. I had a dream about myself. The dream began as I sat in a movie theater holding the hand of a handsome man. I held his hand tight as if letting go would mean letting him go. I remember thinking that this tall, dark haired man was better looking than I had ever dared to wish for. His hand on mine was soft, kind. He whispered to me with a patience and tender love that every little girl hopes for in a man.
As we exited the theater he took me to his home. We arrived and there were shutters on the windows and the warm glow of light from a television shone through the window. There was my mother sitting on the couch, awaiting our arrival. There was jovial conversation, then her departure.
The handsome man then escorted me to a room that held a baby. As I peered in the crib I saw a tiny baby boy with soft chubby cheeks. He had the most beautiful smell and the smallest of breaths. I looked from the man to the baby and back again. I slipped out of the room.
I lay down and the man lay beside me. It appeared that he was my husband and the baby laying in the next room was my son. . . and then I woke up.
It appears that I wasn’t dreaming at all. I was, in fact, awake the whole time. That tall, handsome, kind, gentle, patient and loving man is my husband. The orange painted walls and warm, cozy home is my own. That beautiful cherub faced baby laying in the crib is my son. And this is my life. My real life. Not a dream. Well, not a dream that I have to wake up from.
I suppose if you told me 20 years ago my life would be this great, that God could be this good to me, I would NEVER have believed you. It surely is not possible. I am so very glad it is. I am certain I have no earthly comprehension of what heaven will be like, but if (and I know there shouldn’t even be an if there) God is even a fraction of as generous on the other side of this life as He has been to me on this earth I can’t wait to be there.
Lord, thank you so very much for my undeserved life. For my mother. For my family. For my husband. For my son. For my Salvation. Thank you. . .for dreams come true.
January 6th, 2009 at 11:38 pm
Oh Miss Tricia,
It sounds as if you’re feeling especially thankful today. Just wait 7 years. It will be 7 times as much.
Tonight, after brushing teeth, Bible story, and prayers… Abbey and I plopped down on her bed and began singing. (Claire was listening at the door, pretending not to hear.) I taught her some way-retro ‘70’s worship songs: Hallelujah to Ya (with the echo), Worship the King, and Pass It On. Then I threw in the chorus of Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus for good measure.
As she laid there looking at me with those huge dreamy eyes, (with sister listening intently across the hall), I tried to imagine… to really let it soak in… that God loves us even more than that. And He wants for us… the way I want for my girls. And He’s close to us… even closer than I can be to my daughters.
It’s too good to be true. But it is true. And we desperately need to share that truth with a hurting world. Every day. In every action. What a challenge. (I guess I’ve got my work cut out for me.)